I don’t think I handled it right. Was I vocal enough in my disdain and sadness or did I need to be louder?
I don’t know if my grief level was normal. Was how I handled it the best way to take action?
I ate 47 billion calories worth of licorice and chocolate. Was Tina Fey correct in her cake-eating approach on how to deal in the midst of massive disturbance?
I told my family about how my friends barely made it out alive. Do they understand their awareness gap and the severity of our world’s situation?
I cried at my desk. Am I allowed to be sad and alone – be my introvert self in crucial moments – to think?
I went to a vigil. If I didn’t share my attendance on social media, despite the hashtags displayed for use on the monitors, will people know I care?
I posted silly pictures and told ridiculous jokes online. Will my audience understand I do this as a reminder to smile and good prevails – we press on?
I questioned the meaning of my life. If I die, will I leave this life having impacted others in a positive way?
I wore my joy bright. Do people know that I wear my happy face to help them wear one too?
I think I’m doing this right. If not, can you know I’m learning and doing all that I know I can to do my part in the midst of hard times in our world, and trying to help laughter remain alive, and that my actions are not as pronounced as others but I’m along for the trek, full pep in my step, with a wider stride every day to not just be a bystander but a helper and a changemaker?